


COLORS

by Laeana



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Advice, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Charles is a designer, Creation, Denial of Feelings, Dorks in Love, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Pierre is a model, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, and maxiel own a coffee shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: It's a bit more than a year since Charles first arrived in Paris to realize his dream : become a designer.Until there, he only did what people, brands expected him to do, to secure his way as much as possible.That is until he met a model with two beautiful azure eyes ...
Relationships: Charles Leclerc & Sebastian Vettel, Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen (implied), Lewis Hamilton & Sebastian Vettel, Pierre Gasly & Antonio Giovinazzi, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	1. dripping like a saturated sunrise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iwastemytimereading](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwastemytimereading/gifts), [BearWithAHat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearWithAHat/gifts).



> this gift doesn't make enough sense for me, because I owe a lot to the gc in general. For small advices to the general enthusiasm you guys had when I talked about this story ... thanks a lot, you're lovely :)
> 
> (featuring : colors by Halsey, the stripped version)

“Let pass !”

The cry of a stylist makes him pull away just in time. Charles readjusted his glasses, tightening his blue suit jacket. He's not that badly dressed but he almost feels like he's not dressed enough here. And yet, this is his home. It’s his environment that he meets every day.

“Ah, there you are, Mr. Leclerc.” 

He looks up to meet the polite smile of a young lady he assumes to be responsible for guiding him through the effervescence and crowd movements. On the verge of starting a show.

He is proud to have managed to integrate some of his outfits, part of his collection, here. Paris seemed hard to conquer at first. Now it seems like a utopia getting closer and closer. He must be noticed.

“The models you requested.”

He just nods. His gaze didn’t deceive him. He nods. The final touch-ups are made and the assistant drags him to the room so as not to be late on the program.

Distracted, he doesn't expect to bump into someone. Surprised, he is not the one who falls.

“Excuse me, I …”

“Sorry…”

He reaches out to him to help. And come face to face with two blue eyes. It instantly takes his breath away. The beauty of the one in front of him ... 

The stranger, definitely a model in view of his outfit, offers him a gentle smile before taking his hand. Time seems to have stood still, he has a million things to say. A million things in mind. But the situation is resolved quickly. 

“ _ Goodbye,  _ Charles Leclerc.”

Then like a mirage, an apparition, he disappears with a simple wink, leaving him frozen in place. It was French. Yes ? A language that is a bit lacking, even though they are in the heart of Paris. In this environment, the mixture of words …

“Mr. Leclerc, please !”

He gives a polite smile to his guide, avoiding any unpleasant remarks, above all keen to preserve his good image.

“Could you tell me who this model was ?”

“You don’t know ? It's Pierre Gasly, a real rising star lately. He started with a brand not so well known here, for us Europeans, Alpha Tauri, but quickly got noticed. Some say that he’s wanted by the greatests.”

He’s placed on the sides of the stage. He takes a deep breath when he realizes he has been placed next to Lewis Hamilton. Of course. Seb couldn't help it …

* * *

“Like last time, Lew, just like last time.” Sebastian chuckles and Lewis nods, pursing his lips to hold back a laugh.

Charles rolls his eyes.

He owes a lot to Seb, he's his mentor, he's the one who took him under his wing, because he was talented, because he was one of the most talented artists he has ever encountered in the last fifteen years. He helped him secure a spot in this fashion show.

He is, honestly, one of his role models. 

Because building a collection from almost nothing and making a name for yourself in the business like that ... rumors are flowing today, saying that the German has lost his touch, that his golden age is behind him, but to be honest he doesn't believe it at all.

Then-

Pierre Gasly made his entrance on stage. His gait is assured, head held high, smile shining. His eyes … That's what strikes him the most. His eyes seem to sparkle in the light, a real diamond.

He leans forward, detailing what is in front of him. Going through the fine lines, the muscles that move under the tissues ; his interest is quickly piqued. He wants him. He wants him to parade for him. It’s his certainty, it’s perhaps his new goal. Why not ?

“Interested ?” Sebastian asks him and, focused, he hadn't heard the conversation of the two older ones end.

“I … I think …” he takes a break but he knows that the German expects nothing but his honesty, pure “No, I'm sure I can create clothes that would make him stand out more.”

“So what are you waiting for ?”

Seb's question is made with a smirk and even Lewis, out of the corner of his eye, suddenly seems interested in their conversation, watching them, almost impassive.

“They won't … I would work on it on my own but I don't think they will agree with it.”

“Remind me since when has this stopped you ?” the German laughs with a raised eyebrow.

He shakes his head, close to apologizing. He's always been the most stubborn, always having one more idea, one too many ideas. To do as he pleases. He just doesn't want to ruin the contract he currently has. Because that would be closing doors. One of his first official contracts ...

But what he does in private is his own business after all.

“That’s true.”

* * *

The next time Charles meets Pierre, it's just a coincidence. He's draped in his favorite heather waistcoat, stitched it up with his own hands and knows it's probably gone out of fashion but he's far from caring. He prefers to be more relaxed, especially when he is in the middle of creation.

He settled into his favorite cafe, the Honey Badger, in his favorite spot, the most secluded corner but which has a stunning view out the window. He has a café au lait in his hand with a slice of raspberry pie, the last recipe out. The bitterness of his drink blends perfectly with the sweetness of his pastry and he sighs with pleasure.

“Then then ? What do you think about it ?”

Daniel settled down on the bench in front of him, with a beguiling smile, apron still around his waist, head in his hands, expectantly. He has always been the owner of the café, since each of his visits, his friend in a way ?

It started when Charles first arrived in Paris and wandered, lost in the city. He stopped here upon seeing the sign and was greeted with a bright smile. He explained his situation ; he was one of the only customers on that day, and the Australian didn't even charge him, just telling him to come back.

What a story.

“You added something to this pie, didn't you ? It's sweeter and more sugary than last time … better too.”

“Exactly !”

The older man's face lights up.

“Daniel Ricciardo, we don't disturb customers when they are working ! And get back to work by the way !” a voice is coming from the back of the kitchen.

It doesn't take much for a boy with azure eyes and light brown hair to come out, hands on his hips. 

“Sorry, Maxy, babe !” Daniel apologizes quickly, not seeming really sincere, before kissing the newcomer on the cheek and going back to the kitchen.

Max shakes his head before sighing and turning to him.

“Sorry, Charles.”

The Dutch seems so much more fragile than usual, maybe more tired. They don't always get along well, but he feels worry rising up his chest when he sees him in such a state.

“Are you okay ?”

“It hasn't changed, but I-”

The door chime sounds and Max immediately puts a smile on his face to greet the new customer who has just arrived. He can only assume that it is the same problem over and over again.

Because Daniel and Max are not together.

Charles sits a little better in his seat and takes a look at his sketchbook. There are only sketches at the moment. He found a lot of inspiration for new outfits but not only. He feels himself blushing when he finds other draws of Pierre's face, of what he remembers, lit by the spotlight, his piercing eyes … 

Plump lips. He picks up his pencil to correct his memory, if he remembers correctly, it was more like this …

“I can't believe this is my first time here, I pass on this avenue everyday !”

A somewhat stony voice. Very recognizable. He had only heard a few words before but that was enough for him. He gets up because he needs to see, he needs to know. He realizes he is holding his breath when he meets his gaze for the first time. Pierre gives him a gentle smile.

“I think I'll pick the table over there, thank you.”

“But that's the table of …” Max is confused but quickly reverts to a more professional air and brings the menu card when the model sits down.

Charles spends a very quick second in a fit of panic checking to see if his notebook has stopped on a compromising page (it has, he folds the cover quickly), and tries not to sound awkward. 

He has probably failed on this point honestly.

“You knew my name.” It escapes him, because it surprised him so much in the first place.

“I had to find out who Sebastian had taken as a student. Your work is really … captivating.”

“I can't tell if it's a compliment.”

“Oh, it is one very clearly.”

Pierre adopts a position similar to that of Daniel before him, head in his hands, watching him out of the corner of his eye, up and down. Is he … mentally undressing him ? He swallows softly. He doesn’t know how to act, he is afraid of doing badly.

“You … what brand are you wearing right now ?”

The turtleneck suits him terribly. Black turtleneck. He definitely wants to write it down somewhere so he doesn't forget it. Making adjustments, a new collection ? Something for the winter ?

“If you want to know …” Pierre looks a little embarrassed, features considerably softer “Nothing noticeable. Low prices. Luxury every day … very little for me. I see enough of them during the shows.”

A laugh escapes him then. He can't help it. It is such a frankness that he didn’t expect it. Touching too. The model looks down. He immediately wants to put him at ease. He puts a hand on his cheek to encourage him to lift his head.

“Honestly, the same. Judging from the newspapers, my clothing choices are particular. Moreover …”

A murky emotion in the blue irises facing him. He can't quite figure out what it is, he's never been the best at guessing others.

“You are beautiful, Pierre. You sublimate the clothes you wear.”

* * *

Jules used to tell him that design was the same as playing the piano. It takes practice, often a lot of practice, but without a little bit of talent the spark couldn’t happen. What made the difference between prodigies and others. The gap.

Now Charles watches the white piano in the corner of his apartment with that stuffy nostalgia of times that will not return. He brushes the “Steinway and sons” logo with his fingertips. He no longer has time to play, he is afraid of forgetting the lessons he received at the time, the same lessons which rekindle bad memories in him.

Perhaps the most expensive object in his apartment, perhaps the one that also has the most sentimental value in his eyes. A gift after all.

The papers spread out all along, ideas, first layouts. He began to sew and choose fabrics. His living room is a freaking mess. He's never been the organized type when he's hard at work. He has other things to do.

His phone vibrates to his right and he grabs it with one hand, finishing with a precise hand the design of a dress train. 

“Hi Charles.”

He freezes for a moment recognizing the voice. He pulls a face. That's not a bad thing, that's not the problem.

After all, it's Charlotte. This is his friend and ex-girlfriend, a professional model. The newspapers literally exploded when they found out about the two of them, calling them the couple of the century … until they went their separate ways. 

“Charlotte. What a surprise, why are you calling ?”

“So apparently … I'll be parading in the next collection you're doing in collaboration. I wanted to tell you that's all.”

“Oh …”

He blinks. It is unexpected. They had agreed not to work together since this affair. 

“You should receive the tickets to Rome and the details tomorrow, see you this weekend.”

“Yeah, thanks for the information.”

“Try to find suitable clothes, hm ?”

He would almost feel offended if Charlotte didn't know him so well. They exchange a few more cordial greetings, he fails to ask her what made her accept such a contract, before hanging up. 

He grumbles, runs a hand over his face. 

His portfolio faces him, looks at him almost guiltily. Because he decided to go on something else but can't afford to spend all his time there. He must earn his living and his reputation above all, if he is to survive in this profession. If he wants to survive in Paris.

With an additional sigh, he puts away his sketchbook and the mess in his living room which is not related to the right project. It's time for him to focus more on his job. Not what he would like to do. 

The more traditional, more marked designs emerge, the entire dossier he has prepared for his collaboration. The way that is sure.

He has to take care of meager details, he's almost done.

He received his travel details for Greece the next day at 10 a.m. sharp, without fail.

* * *

Sebastian is waiting for him at the airport. How does he always manage to get invited to the shows when people scream that his career is over ? It remains a real mystery for him. He thinks Lewis has something to do with it.

(Last time around, the Briton admitted he couldn't survive a parade without him, after all.)

“How's your project going ?”

Charles takes a moment before realizing what project it is about. He looks down.

“Good but I don't have enough time for it. I don't even know if it will work.”

The German just nods. Their journey to the esplanade is silent. They don't always have much to say to each other, but he relishes the moments of silence, of plenitude, of tranquility that they share. The older one always managed to put him at ease, one way or another. They pass the entrance easily.

“How are you still here ?” he ends up asking, not knowing if he will get an answer.

Sebastian's blue eyes twinkle.

“You’re aware that Lewis started out as a model and not a designer, yes ? Everyone knows this story.”

He waits patiently for the rest. They pass a group of hurried and anxious organizers, before arriving backstage.

“Lewis was my model.” His mentor has a sweet, loving smile. “I pushed him to go towards his true passion, it was a waste of talent.”

His surprise is great. This part of the story was unknown to him. But he doesn't immediately see the connection to their situation now.

“I could have asked to invite me to events but you know the creators have a gold seat, the ability to reserve a seat alongside them, for one person ? I have Lewis'. He said … that was a way of thanking me.”

Charles turns, eyes wide. Sebastian still has the same dreamy look on his face, barely concerned with what is going on around them. It would almost make him blush, but it was he who asked. Yeah.

“Join me when you're done ?” his friend whispers in his ear before turning away.

He doesn't have time to answer, because he finds himself frozen in place. Pierre is there, of course he is. And their surroundings seem to disappear significantly.

“Hi.”

He doesn’t even notice that they approached each other, drawn like magnets.

“I'm glad you're here.”

That's what the Frenchman says, who seems more than nervous, his hands are shaking. He grabs them gently, trying to calm him down.

“What is happening ?”

“ _ I have to prove myself as usual. _ ” Pierre murmurs, in a low tone, so fearful that he chose to change his language.

“ _ It's going to be fine, everything will be fine. You are amazing on the stage, you know that ? _ ”

“ _ Yes but I- _ ”

“Pierre !” a voice that interrupts their moment, coming from a little further away.

“I’m coming !  _ Shit. _ ” 

Charles undoes his grip on his hands and places them instead on his cheeks, to anchor his eyes in his. He's so close from his lips, it would take just a little for them to kiss …

“ _ You're going to get there, don't worry. I believe in you. _ ” He just says.

“ _ Thank you, I … Thank you Charles. See you after the show, yeah ? _ ”

“ _ Only if you want me. _ ”

A small smile that stands on the model's lips and it seems like a victory to him.

“ _ I owe you a coffee after all. _ ” Pierre replies, a little hesitant about how to say goodbye.

He is too. Because they're so close, it doesn't feel right to exchange a vague wave of the hand. But they haven't created anything yet, said anything. They decently cannot do more.

They almost end up being pulled away from each other.

* * *

“Are these the pieces you worked on ?” Lewis asks, pointing to several models.

Charles can't help but look down. Between them, Sebastian is much quieter than usual, as if to let them do it. He doesn’t understand such hindsight.

“No … the truth is it's the ones that will pass. There.”

The Briton from then on falls silent. Eyes riveted on the people parading past them. He bites his lip, because what if he doesn't like it ? He doesn't want to disappoint Lewis Hamilton. He wouldn't have lost his place in the fashion world, but he would have liked to work with him on occasion.

He often called this hope unachievable in his early days but since Sebastian has taken him under his wing, nothing seems really impossible. Rather, that's what scares him, how the possibilities are endless.

Oh, Seb … 

To disappoint Lewis is also to show that Sebastian was wrong in choosing him, that the rumors are perhaps not so false.

He twists his hands between them, anguished, suddenly. His collection ends with Charlotte giving the crowd a solar smile and another brand is announced, he sees out of the corner of his eye the oldest of the three pulling out his phone, and that's it. It was not up to par.

He rivets his eyes on the stage, trying to focus on it, but there is a definite ringing in his ears. Pierre appears, splendid, in a sort of overalls. Casual-chic style. All his apprehension from earlier seems to have disappeared, his eyes are still captivating, under the rays of the spotlights …

“Seb ?”

“Lew.” said the German as an answer.

“As always you have an eye for rare gems.”

Sebastian laughs softly, sliding his arm over the back of Lewis' chair, very close to his shoulders in a seemingly natural gesture.

“What do you want, I still have resources.”

Charles has a hard time figuring out what's going on. In fact, that seems too much to him. But when he looks up at the Brit, the latter still has his eyes riveted on his phone.

“Hey Charles, would you like to drop the contract with Armani and come work with me ?”

He has to look around to remember where he is. Because honestly nothing is going well in this situation but he is so ready for it. For chaos, for decadence, to seek new horizons.

Because Lewis offers to come and work for him, no, with him, and drop the brand that is the very reason for his presence here. How daring, how bold is that move. He almost can't believe it.

“Even if I want Pierre as a model ?”

“Mainly because you want to.”

“What if my work is not always constant ?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“... I guess I can negotiate the salary and the hours ?”

The Briton seems endlessly patient as he nods his head and then when he takes the time to watch him, to really watch him, he realizes it's because he really wants him on his team. He is looking forward to working with him.

Oh.

“Okay.” he breathes “I agree.”

* * *

“It's crazy, Charles ! You don't even know if it's going to work !” Charlotte cries, a spark of disagreement shining in her eyes.

“My decision is already made, there is no point in discussing.”

“And that's a bad decision ! How do-”

“What are you doing ?”

The voice freezes them both. Pierre stands in the middle of the hall, a tired look on his face, a shawl draped around his almost bare shoulders and he swallows when he sees him. Perfection in many ways.

“Pierre …” he whispers.

“I owe you a coffee, don't I ? Maybe we can go get one if you're done ?”

Charles stands in the middle of the hallway, between his ex-girlfriend and the man who caught his interest. He is indecisive for a short moment before just nodding.

“We're done. If you have your things, we can leave now.”

“Charles !” and Charlotte seems offended.

Pierre has a small smile, a smile he really wants to kiss. He grabs his hand and they do the opposite way. He will probably have to apologize to his friend later, but right now he doesn't have the heart to hear her reproaches because again he isn't choosing the safest path for him.

It’s not possible to live without endlessly avoiding risks. One day, you have to go on an adventure, explore the horizons that have always fled.

Halfway there, as they finally reach the exit, he freezes.

“Where do you actually want to go ?”

Pierre stops in turn and looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly blushing as he confesses :

“I wanted to get you out of a situation that seemed difficult. I don't really have any places in mind.”

Their hands are still tied. None of them come forward to undo the hold.

“Do you have something else planned or are you going back to France, Pierre ?”

“I was planning to take the first plane to Paris.”

“That's what I was planning to do too. We can go back together ?”

The Frenchman's smile becomes even brighter. His heart is pounding hard in his chest, he feels warm from the inside. It has been a while since he felt such feelings and with such intensity.

(And they don’t undo their hands in the cab, or on the way to the hotel. They inquire only for ease worries when retrieving their bags.) 

* * *

That’s only in the plane, a calm journey in short, rather ordinary, that Charles realizes the state of fatigue in which Pierre is. The makeup had taken care to camouflage his complexion and dark circles but now he can see them.

And he doesn't like it.

He wonders what information is missing. Because he seems to be able to see only the surface of things. What about the bottom ? What about those behind the scenes, all that is being said in secret ?

In general, he is not bad at this game. But usually he is at least in the confidences.

Because first there are the headlines, talking about the rough diamond that Pierre was, but there is also the worry in his eyes, how his hands were shaking, on the verge of revealing something, of speaking, and there's the silent endorsement Lewis has twice given to this.

What happens then ?

He needs to know, he can't stand to see his precious model in this state. He deserves so much better and so much more.

He strokes his hair gently. Pierre sagged against his shoulder as soon as they took off, really unable to hold on any longer. And honestly, it sucks. Because a fashion show can be exhausting but not so exhausting.

This is something he needs to know … 

* * *

There is a kind of politeness hanging over them as they leave the airport. They exchange glances, wondering what would be best for them. They end up leaving their suitcases in his apartment. 

Pierre gives him a look, a silent request in the hollow of his eyes, and Charles quickly understands. Their hands meet again as they walk down the Champs Elysees. He feels light.

Max greets them with a smile, sincere ?, and they take his favorite place, without even questioning it. 

“So what do you want today ?” asks the Frenchman, in front of him.

“I don’t know. Usually I wait for Dan to offer me something.”

“Sorry, he's not here today.” Max declares, approaching their table, two menus in hand.

These words make him frown. This is unusual. Daniel still manages his shop, he is the owner. He never saw him absent, even when he was sick, he managed to come anyway.

“What ?”

“We decided … to take alternate schedules. So … yeah.”

“Max …?” he can't help but say.

The Dutchman looks down, biting the inside of his cheek, he seems once again in bad shape. He can only assume that the situation has worsened.

“I would recommend the chocolate caramel cookies or the flan for today.”

“We'll take both, thank you.” Pierre answers, simply.

“Café au lait and …?”

“Black, strong.”

Max nods and walks back to the counter. Charles sighs briefly, the model's hand sliding over his gently, as if in an attempt to clear his mind.

He observes a moment this union for, this little gesture that makes his heart beat, before looking up.

“Tell me, Pierre, it's not okay, right ? With your agency or … your contract ?”

Pierre doesn't really answer him, just looking at him, with that same glimmer of interest deep in his eyes.

“Why ?”

He is more unsettled than he would like by this question.

“I think …” he begins before cutting himself off almost immediately.

Charles thought for a moment. This doesn’t seem trivial enough to him. He wants to be on top of it all. He still wants him. He wants him for himself, for himself alone. Maybe the line between desire and his ambitions is thin but that doesn't even bother him.

He grabs his bag and his sketchbook which he carefully took with them. Because signing a contract with Lewis is one thing, but getting a real deal from the model involved is quite another.

He unfolds the cover even as Max brings their orders, and flips through the pages until he comes across the outfit sketches he has started making. The pieces, unique and detailed, straight out of his mind. Then he hands it to Pierre.

“I want you to model for me.”

He then adds:

“You will be out of the pressure, I promise you. It's a project that I would like you to get involved in too, of course. And …” he feels almost shy “And if you give yourself to me, you can have me ?”

Enterprising, without ever being too much. Shy, although he allows himself to try. His emotions confused, because he never really put a name on those feelings that were born in his chest but maybe …

Maybe it's not that bad.

“Charles, look up.  _ My treasure, please. _ ”

Pierre's face is luminous, beaming with joy, his eyes clearer than usual, more relaxed.

“Of course I accept.” starts the French before letting out a little laugh “I was hoping you offered it to me. Really. I didn't think it was possible but … it happened.”

“Ah really ?”

“Really ?”

Charles has a moment of hesitation that is not necessary. Pierre gets up to come and sit next to her, his azure eyes bear a silent question as he puts a hand on her cheek, then their lips meet.

Everything makes sense. This is what comes to mind. He didn't know he wanted it that much until now. 

Draw faces, shape an obsession, a desire. He's not sure he was so aware of it himself. He tightens his grip on his partner's shoulder, lets himself go more in this kiss, until he is forgotten.

“Maybe …” Pierre begins, his cheeks and lips reddened, and it's a vision of such beauty that he wishes to keep it with him, forever “Maybe we should start eating, before our drinks don't get cold. ”

“You are right.” he confesses, even though he doesn't quite feel ready to release his embrace.

Pierre remains on this side of the bench, leaning against his shoulder. Their conversation calms down. What a pity, his coffee is already lukewarm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a project I'm proud to release ... because somehow it took me time and thoughts and wonder ... I had a lot of things to sort out while doing this. I went from almost nothing and I know nothing about fashion so ... I hope you still enjoyed this first part.
> 
> tumblr : laeana


	2. but you're a masterpiece

Pierre doesn't seem to want to leave him so quickly so Charles lodges him in his apartment while he continues to work on his collection. He has to find Lewis again, they still have so many details to work out. He's in breach of contract, he can't stay in this situation too long.

Pierre in his eyes represents temptation itself and he wonders whether he will not end up drowning in the passion he feels. Maybe he'll end up overwhelmed and lost. Crazy.

He doesn’t know what to think of these days which pass before his eyes and which all look alike. Yet so different. His routine was turned upside down as soon as the Frenchman decided he would stay longer in his apartment than a single night.

“Why don't you take a little rest ?” and while saying this, the model puts his two arms around his neck.

The sun has long gone down by the window. Paris is still lively, at night, the neighborhoods seem a little less welcoming, but a lot of people live that way. Live by night, without worrying about others, by day.

“What do you have in mind ?”

“Get dressed, we're going out.”

He would like to protest and say he's dressed but his shorts and sweatshirt that he used to wear as work clothes aren't exactly the best he has. He stands in front of his wardrobe, in front of all the brands that pass before his eyes, and wonders what to wear.

Pierre arrives and he gasps when he sees him. A white crop top that shows off his lower abdomen and abs a little too well and that stands out on his tanned skin with dark blue bombers and low-rise black jeans.

“Do I have to … uh …”

The older boy shakes his head and just pulls him a cloth shirt and jeans from the closet. He undresses a little too quickly, before realizing that it may not be the right thing to do, but his comrade is patient.

Once dressed, Pierre gives him a critical look and unbuttons several of his buttons. For once he would feel almost prudish.

“You're going to have to throw your inhibitions out the window, honestly, Charlie. At least for tonight.”

He raises an eyebrow. His inhibitions are going very well. He's not the type of person to be afraid to dare. He just decided to dedicate his next collection to a specific person after all. 

The Frenchman simply smiles and hands him his coat. Then they come out and start to wander the streets. He goes where his companion decides to lead him. 

The streets are beautiful at night but they avoid the upscale neighborhoods. They come to a darker side, but Pierre's hand in his is strong, he walks fearlessly. And since he trusts him, he proudly follows him.

They arrive in front of a portal. The model enters a code and the doors slip away before them. Charles feels curious, it's unexpected. It's unexpected and soon they find themselves in a crowd. People of all genders and ages. The colors are the first thing that comes to mind. So many colors. 

The styles are all unexpected but his eye keeps finding a different target. So much, so much inspiration. It's weird but beauty doesn't seem to be wearing a gender on this particular evening and if he's surprised, that's not a bad thing.

Pierre calls out to several people and is called out, popular. He watches the whole scene without understanding anything, not really.

Then, the Frenchman turns to him, happy, so happy, delighted, and puts his lips on his and he says to himself that he can wait a little longer to have an explanation.

They sit in chairs and that's when he realizes it's a scene in front of them. He then thinks he understands. A clandestine show ?

Several models parade. They might not be models but the confidence and pride they exude is enough to make the show more than enjoyable.

They're breaking the codes. What more can be said ?

“Here’s my friend, Tonio.”

A man enters, dressed in a dark red dress that seems to be blazing in the spotlight. The train is long behind it and the ruffles create an unreal look to the whole.

The bust is simple, closed, grouped on one shoulder and the back … the back is completely open, its closure reveals light lace. The bottom of the dress is split, revealing long, slender and svelte legs. The model's hair is grouped into a complicated bun with a section of hair coming out to simply fall to the side of his cheek. Long sparkling earrings decorate his face.

“He's awesome, isn't he ?” whispers Pierre, proud of his friend.

“You … do you want to parade in a dress ?” he asks, out of breath.

“Hm, I don’t know. I'm not sure it's okay.”

But he doesn't say no either. Charles notes the difference with a certain pleasure. He takes his hand in his and smiles, because if he asks him, he's ready to do whatever he wants to have. He's up for a bit too much for him.

He can already draw a quick cut of what might be. He can see maybe a deep blue already, to make his eyes stand out or …

“Thank you, Charles, you … you have no idea how much you do for me.”

“What was going on ?”

Antonio on the stage makes another round trip, his dress flying around him for a few moments, with a brief smile at the audience, before he walks confidently up the podium.

“Diamonds are made under pressure, do you know that expression ? My contract … was similar to it. I had to work, always work more, it was never enough. I wanted to stop but I can't even … I was just stuck waiting for someone to come and save me.”

“How is that …”

“Possible ? I didn't believe it either. I was just … naive. I believe.”

Disillusions that shine in the azure eyes. He brings him back to him with a gesture, to remind him that they are here, right now. What is he willing to do for his beautiful eyes ... maybe even sell his soul to the highest bidder.

“I'm sorry, Pierre, I …”

“Why are you apologizing ?” Pierre laughs softly, kindly “It's not your fault, sweetheart. And you're here today, that's what matters.”

“Pierre, you came !” 

Antonio almost throws himself on Pierre's neck, his long dress still draped around him and twirling as he moves.

“And you brought Charles back with you, my god ! You are crazy !”

“Hello …” he feels almost shy, he doesn't know what to say.

“What do you think of the dress I'm wearing ? I can't believe my request was granted.”

That's when he notices an accent. The way r's roll. Not Spanish but … Italian ?

“It suits you very well. I didn't think… I didn't think about it.”

He mumbles something about staying in the same frame but Antonio pays no attention, bright face.

“You see ! I was trying to convince Pierre to give it a try … I can't believe he refuses it again !”

A slight redness is visible on the cheekbones of the Frenchman who shakes his head before saying :

“That would never suit me, this is not for me.”

“Ridiculous.” he responds, instinctively, attracting two curious, astonished glances “Everything suits you, Pierre, everything, I … I will create what you want to wear.”

His partner's blue irises almost sparkle, wet ? The emotion must be strong. Charles comes to harvest these pearls with his fingertips.

“My god, I don't know where you found him, Pierre. But please keep him.” 

Antonio's remark is gentle, without any malice or malice. Pierre laughs softly and kisses him again and he almost feels dizzy. 

What is he feeling deep inside ?

* * *

“In the world of fashion, there is a limit that must not be exceeded.”

Lewis takes a sip of tea, a gesture almost too elegant. Charles doesn't even know how he managed to drag him to the Honey Badger but he did. The Brit wanted him to be as comfortable as possible.

“That is to say ?”

“In a very basic way, separate your private life from your professional life. I know it sounds simple but it never is.”

“I … why are you telling me this ?”

The older one shakes his head, almost frantically readjusting the sleeves of the black top he's wearing.

“Your outfits, basing them on a person to make a collection. It's bold, it's special, it's new. What is risky are your intentions towards Pierre.”

He freezes, blinking.

“What …?”

“If you don't distinguish between your feelings well enough, it can affect your work. He cannot be yours forever and you cannot give yourself to him for your whole life.”

This voice bears witness to regrets, of a past era, of too heavy secrets. It's not so much in relation to him. 

“What keeps me from trying ? What prevents me from … making my feelings the driving force of my creation ? What's wrong with that ?”

“Because this is going to screw you both up !” Lewis answers sharply, without appeal.

“I …”

Silence falls over them. A perhaps heavy silence. He hears the laughter in the distance coming from the kitchen. Daniel has returned and their grievances seem to have subsided now. He finds himself at a loss for words for a moment before remembering that the contract is already signed anyway and that it is not about him.

“It's unfair to project your story onto mine. I don't know what you've been through, Lewis, or what you're afraid of, but that's not my fucking problem.”

He collects his things quickly and walks out of the cafe without even giving anyone another glance. He makes the way to his apartment, mortified, unable to feel anything else.

He just can't take it.

He’s better than that.

He enters his apartment and presumably interrupts a conversation. No, Pierre is still not gone and he apparently invited Antonio to come. He attracts a worried look from the Frenchman but quickly gets rid of his coat and shoes, leaving them in a hurry in the hallway to go and lock himself in his room. 

Their room.

He doesn't really know anymore. When did the line get so blurry ? He can't concentrate on anything and dials a number he knows by heart. Sebastian responds almost immediately as usual and he spends several minutes trying to explain the conversation he just had, irregular breathing and heavy chest.

He feels like he can turn hyperventilating at any minute but the calm, the collected tone of his mentor on the other end of the phone makes him feel somehow better.

“It's not your fault, Charles. You haven't done anything wrong.” the older one simply begins after hearing the entire story.

“I know, I … what if he's not wrong, deep down ? What if …”

“No. It all depends on what you're going to do and what the two of you are going to do. There are lots of ways to solve this.”

He takes a deeper breath. All his fears that started to resurface.

“Lewis worked for someone before me. A brilliant boy. Their relationship was tumultuous and after releasing his first collection, which was a great success, he decided to end his career there. I think … I think Lewis is afraid this is happening to you.”

He remembers studying it. This is his first thought. He knows what Sebastian is talking about or rather who.

“Is this Nico Rosberg that we’re talking about ?”

He hears a sigh, the German doesn't seem to like the subject or the person. He's not sure which of the two is right.

“Look … I'll take care of talking to Lewis. You don't have to worry.”

“Thank you, Seb.”

“You're welcome, have a good evening.”

Hanging up, Charles feels drained. Better, fitter, but terribly drained by this adventure. He runs a hand over his face nervously and suddenly realizes the calm in his apartment. 

He goes to open the door and finds Pierre, now alone, looking worried, half sitting on the back of the sofa. The latter gets up immediately when he sees him, coming to meet him.

“Charles ! Charles, are you okay ? What's happened ?”

The Frenchman puts a gentle hand on his face and he doesn’t get rid of it. He relishes the contact, everything that is offered to him even if … even if the same questions still plague him.

“Pierre, what are we ?”

And maybe that's the question he should never have asked. 

Pierre recoils and as the silence stretches a sinking sensation in his stomach without even knowing why. Why does it matter so much to him ?

“I … sorry, I …”

An expression of pure fear on the face of the older man who picks up his coat, almost tripping over his things at the entrance before scampering off.

He still hasn't come to grips with his own emotions and his heart is pounding so hard in his chest it almost hurts. Destabilized by this refusal to answer, he almost collapses to the ground, without understanding. He needs words, he lacks them.

He needs to know deep down what can be and what could have been. But it's so hard when he can't even comprehend the veins of his own thoughts. 

What made him look at Pierre in the first place ? What made him want to know him ? And how did that heat in his chest change ?

Tears almost burn his eyelids, their warmth contrasting with the cold he feels inside. He feels terrible, with the impression that he has just ruined everything in one fell swoop.

What can he do about it ?

* * *

When Charles shows up at the Honey Badger the next day, his night has been hectic. He sits down at his favorite table with a heavy sigh, his sketchbook still with him but he doesn't have the strength to draw anything, his inspiration seems to flee him.

What if Lewis was really right ? 

A plate is placed in front of him, he looks up in surprise and finds Daniel with a small smile.

“I didn't order anything.”

“I know, it's on the house.”

It’s a macaroon that faces him. The creamy outline that reveals a brown interior. Chocolate probably. He hesitates a little before biting into it and a tangy taste fills his mouth. Surprised, he looks at the pastry again.

“That isn’t just chocolate, isn’t it ?” He asks, basically a little amazed.

“Nope.”

“What is that ?”

“Take another bite.”

He does what he's told. The same flavor that bursts in his mouth. It's soft, sweet, a touch of bitterness. Fruit. Raspberry ? 

“Raspberry ?”

“Exactly ! I tried to hide it in chocolate but it never escapes you like always.”

Max arrives in turn and puts down his cup of coffee, as always. Daniel looks at him lovingly.

“Come on, Dan. Leave him alone, shoo !”

“If you were a little less jealous …”

Max nudges the Australian who quickly dodges him and comes over to kiss him instead. There they are, reconciled, apparently.

Charles returns to his cafe. His problems are still not resolved and he doesn’t know what to do with them. To tell the truth, he doesn't even know where Pierre went.

“Charles !”

Antonio enters the cafe without even worrying about the rest and comes to sit down at his table. He wears a petrol blue silk shirt tied at the waist that reveals his shoulders, enhanced by the little golden necklace representing a moon.

“I am relieved to find you here ! I've been looking for you since this morning …”

“Hi ? Why were you looking for me ?”

He rubs his eyes nervously. 

“Pierre has been having an existential crisis since he came to my house yesterday, so I beg you to come and pick him up !”

“An … an existential crisis ?” he stammers.

“Yes about his sexuality all that, about you … the kind of thing that resolves in the bedroom yeah. You follow me ?”

“I'm not sure he wants to see me.”

“Of course he does, of course. You love him, he loves you, even though he's in denial. Everything will be alright.”

He loves him ? 

Charles looks down, confused. Even though that explains a lot of things, even though that's why the fire is so strong in his chest. He feels his cheekbones blush slightly, hard to believe yes. But he's determined to prove Lewis wrong.

“Alright, I’m following you.”

* * *

“Go away Tonio, I don't want to listen to you …” weary, tired voice.

Charles doesn't dare say it's him. He simply walks into the room to find Pierre curled up on the couch, hair in disarray.

And there, the heat in his chest, once again. He wonders how he didn't realize it, how they didn't realize it sooner. Yet these exchanged kisses … as if their bodies were struggling to tell them.

“It's not Tonio.”

The Frenchman immediately raises his head, his eyes wide. He hesitates before coming to sit next to him. The model moans slightly, embarrassed.

“Charles … what are you doing here ?”

“Antonio wants me to take you home apparently. Or to my apartment. I think he's had enough of you squatting on his couch.”

“It hasn't even been a day ! What a friend I swear …”

There is an embarrassment that was not there before. He takes a deep breath, trying to muster his courage. 

“I don't know how you feel. Honestly, I was even told it was a bad idea but …” he lowers his eyes “For me, it's love. I love you. Since I laid eyes on you, I think. It might be the worst thing to do, it can destroy us … but honestly I don't care. If I can have you in my arms for part of the way, then it will be worth whatever we have to face.”

Pierre lets out a soft, muffled sound. It takes a moment for him to realize it's a sob and in the blink of an eye, his partner has thrown himself on him to encircle him with his arms.

“I'm scared, Charles. I am terribly afraid. I have never had someone who meant so much to me. And you are willing to do so much for me that it terrifies me. This … this power that I have over you. I was fighting my feelings so hard, it never makes a difference … I love you too.”

A moment of suspense, during which they simply look at each other. A smile that climbs on his lips as he puts his hands on Pierre's cheeks, who lets himself go and kisses him. It's sweet, more applied than all those kisses before, because this one really means something.

“"Perfect !”

They move back almost brutally, he must restrain his model who has visibly forgotten that he was on his laps. Antonio stands in the doorway, delighted.

“Can you go home now ?”

“I have the feeling that you’re kicking us out of your house …” mutters Pierre, getting up anyway.

“Not at all ! But if you could leave, that would be fine with me.”

He shakes his head and grabs his partner's wrist to drag him after him. Nightfall seems a perfect backdrop for them. Pierre rearranges their hold so that he can hold his hand. They laugh, maybe a little too free for once.

Then they kiss and they are just two passers-by in the middle of a crowd, in the middle of Paris, there is no one to care about them.

And maybe it’s better this way.

* * *

Charles doesn't know what Sebastian said to Lewis and probably never will, but when he sees Lewis again, he never again gives warning about his relationship with Pierre.

And when he talks about breaking codes, going beyond genders, the Brit is absolutely delighted.

It's a small success but that's what he likes to say to himself. From the most classic to the outfits that defy the conventional. He is proud. It’s the first time that he is so proud to have undertaken something.

His sketches become more precise until they become real.

And he'll-

He'll make a dress for Pierre if he wants to. 

How time flies, so quickly. As it always does. Or maybe it's his feeling now, maybe he was missing something before, a flame, someone. 

He's in the backstage of the fashion show for once. 

His relationship with Pierre is the most uncertain thing in his life, he has spent his time letting himself fall from precipice to precipice, hoping that the fall would not be fatal to him but he has more hope. More hope than he ever had.

And he doesn't know how long it's going to last, if it's going to last, no matter how badly he wants it, they are never immune to the unexpected. He wants to keep him with him, as long as he wants him.

“Do you think I'll make it ?” his boyfriend asks him with a worried look.

“I still can't figure out how you can be so nervous before the shows !”

“It's your collection, I want to honor it …”

“It's made for you, Pierre. Only for you.” he absently adjusts the hair that falls in front of his companion's eyes. “Enjoy, okay ? You are beautiful.”

Pierre blushes but a small smile arises on his lips. He leans forward to kiss him. The model laughs during the kiss, lightly, pulling back just enough to whisper :

“I don't know why, but you still manage to calm me down, Charles. Thank you.”

“It’s my secret magic.”

He winks at him and the older one grabs his hand to kiss his knuckles. A promise ?

In front of them, the screen lights up to display his logo, so proudly chosen, intersecting with that of Lewis. He would almost feel nervous too. Impatient but nervous. He finds it difficult to let Pierre go. 

His throat is dry, he licks his lips. Pierre is gorgeous in neon lights, his figure sublimated in so many ways. He always feels himself falling a little more in love and, if they don't screw up, he'll be proud to say it's their achievement. Of both of them.

“ _Pierre, we …_ _See you after the show, yeah ?_ ”

A sparkle of surprise in the model's gaze before a gentle smile marks his features.

“ _ Only if you want me. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and i've finished it hehe ... I'm already on something else but I do hope this small AU pleased you. I put my heart into it so thanks for having read :)


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